Love those massages!

This Tuesday Sy (and the ex) and I went off to the state fair. I am a BIG fan of the state fair because they have those little booths of things that you can buy, the hall of flowers and the petting zoo. (SQUEE! Baby animals!) I am not so big into the rides, but hey, to each their own.

 This year upon entering the main front gates, we started to walk down the middle isle of the booths to make our way outside. I was looking at all the lovely things that you can purchase and from behind, someone put their hands on my shoulders and began rubbing. Oh my goodness! It was awesome! I was told this person sort of appeared out of no where but I didn't care. It was those massage guys from the mall that are always trying to lure you in for fifteen minutes of zen before you continued with your day. I saw no harm in that and I waved Jess and Sy off to come back to the massage booth after my 15 minutes of a mini break. I mean really, after the weekends sprint through the wilds, I needed some massage.

Ohhhhh yeah....

Don't mind if I *do*, sir! Do your massage magic!

Ok, massage guy from the mall, do your best. I am ready to be taken on a journey of total relaxation while my stress melts away like wax from a candle. (*note: I think this was my main mistake of the day, trusting a massage guy from the mall, currently stationed at the state fair) What follows was not in fact a journey of total relaxation, but confusion and pain. The massage itself was so ... hardcore and acutely severe that "deep muscle massage" would be like saying the Titanic had a slight mishap at sea. It was so deep I am pretty sure the bones in my body were palpitated, stretched and reorganized to some new form and structure that any biologist or anthropologist would love to study. But oddly enough, the dude was getting every knot and snarl that I had going on. He got them thoroughly. He got them so well, my muscles will never ever *think* of developing a knot again.

the beating 

The fleecing

 As expected I had no knots in my back, joints, hair or otherwise at the end of the inquisition.. umm.. I mean massage. I dutifully paid the man the required amount of money, slithered off to find the guy I was dating and my son for a hug and some consolation. As I was drifting through the crowds like a wraith, I wondered to myself...
 "Was that the worst massage ever, or the most gentle mugging in history?"